Feel any better now?
by Aquamarina15
Summary: I was wondering where this story was! :) Just found it in Word. Erin returns from her outing with Andy to find her new friend Pete waiting for her at reception. You know how this scene goes. I just added on a fluffy bit at the end to make us happy while we wait for the next episode! Pete's POV, obviously. Please R & R. Set during "The Boat".


The office feels positively creepy without everyone else. They've all gone, and the place is colder somehow, darker too, as if they'd been filling the space with spirit instead of just themselves. I wait for Erin to return in utter boredom, because it's past five, and no one ever calls this late. I guess the only reason I'm still here is to make sure she's coming back. I open up her computer, and discover it's password protected. I make a few halfhearted guesses, then try Narddog-Andy's nickname with no spaces. I grimace as that does it. It makes my stomach twist and squeeze unpleasantly. I open an Internet explorer window and play a game while I wait.

It's about five-forty-five when Erin returns, her eyes downcast. I instantly wonder where Andy is. Then I realize how downtrodden she looks.

"Hey," I say cheerily, and she looks up, surprised. "She's back!" She smiles, but it's tepid and it breaks my heart.

"Thanks for covering the phones," she mutters.

I shrug, "No problem," and get up, walking out as she walks in, my shoulder brushing hers. I try to shake off that feeling, the tendrils of flame that spread from that area. I grab my coat as she checks a few things on her desk. She is in serious need of some cheering up.

"Hey," I say, remembering the call I got a few minutes earlier. "A couple of buddies and me are going to Poor Richard's for beers and pool. You want to come?" It was a long shot, but I'm sure it would cheer her up. "I can't promise you too much, but you might get to meet my friend Flipper."

She turns away from me for a moment. "Oh. Does he have a flipper?"

I laugh at the absurdity of the question, but I know she means it, so I answer. "No, it's not that, it's, um…he flipped a table one time when he was drunk." I remember that. I'm actually always the sober one. I'm the drive-me-home guy. I really don't mind. Drinking isn't the best pastime, and I prefer to have my wits about me anyway.

"He sounds like an idiot," she says, still not looking at me.

"Yeah, he is," I respond, wondering if that meant no.

She looks up from her desk. "Okay," she says. She stands up and adjusts the bag on her shoulder, turning her body so she brushes past without touching me.

"Okay," I say, surprised. I didn't think she'd want to come.

"Thanks," She says, and I wait for her smile, but it doesn't appear.

"Yeah," I mutter, and follow her out the main door.

We stand in the elevator in awkward silence. She was so happy when she left, and so despondent now, that I wasn't sure if I should ask what was wrong. It might be too soon. But if it was, she probably wouldn't want to go out with my friends, right?

She heads for her car and says, "I'll meet you there."

I jog up to her and say, "wait."

She turns, eyes expectant, but mouth still turned downwards in that out-of-character frown. "Are you okay?"

She doesn't smile and say yes, like she usually does when asked. Instead, her gaze is thrown to the gravel of the parking lot. "Not really," she mutters. "But it'll be okay."

"What happened?" I whisper. I won't add how excited she was when she left. She's obviously aware.

"Andy left. I don't know if you noticed," she murmurs, gesturing out across the parking lot, "but he didn't come back from lunch." She's struggling to keep bitterness from her voice.

"Where is he?" I say warily—he just up and left?

"The Bahamas. Well, not now. He's sailing his boat to the Bahamas." She says softly.

"He just—left? Without telling anyone? What about tomorrow, when we come into work? What'll happen then?" I blurt angrily. Really, along with all these questions, one looms biggest in my mind: how could he just leave Erin?

Her eyes fill with angry tears. "I don't know! He left! Don't be mad at him!" She cries, and covers her face with her hands.

It only takes a second to pull her into my arms, and she lets out a sob, wrapping her arms around my waist. I let her cry for a moment, then say, "sorry. I just don't understand."

She sniffs and looks up. "Neither do I. I wanted—I hoped he would ask me to come with him, but he didn't—he just left. At least he isn't alone. His brother is there with him. We found him—asleep—in a closet, and..." her speech is cut off with another sob, and I pull her close again, to which she obliges gratefully.

"I can't believe he would leave you," I say softly. She giggles, and hugs me tight for a second.

"Thank you," she whispers.

Then she looks up and says, "Maybe I shouldn't go to Poor Richard's. I think I want to go home."

I smile at her and say, "if that's what you think is best, then okay. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess?"

She smiles at me then, if a little sadly, and my heart swells with pride. "See you."

I sit in my car until she's pulled out, watching her the whole way. She's done crying. I look down and see a wet spot on my shirt, where she was crying. I smile a little, and pull out myself, heading over to see my friends with kind of a warm feeling in my stomach.


End file.
